Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Nigeria and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Stereo Dub to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Desert Stars,
The Names,
Gichy Dan,
The Busters,
Lou Reed,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lindisfarne,
The Offenders,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bauhaus,
Yellowson,
Lyres,
Deakin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Golliwogs,
Joy Division,
Boz Scaggs,
Flipper,
Marine Girls,
The Gories,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fad Gadget,
The Pretty Things,
Bill Wells,
Animal Collective,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Saints,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Flamin' Groovies,
Massinfluence,
Bluetip,
Roger Hodgson,
ABBA,
The Motions,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Bar-Kays,
Ken Boothe,
Hoover,
Organ,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Babytalk,
Absolute Body Control,
Cameo,
Youth Brigade,
Janne Schatter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Niagra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DNA,
Andrew Hill,
Wasted Youth,
The Fortunes,
Zero Boys,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Metal Thangz,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.